The Allis Family or Scenes of Western Life

by Velda Allis Eddy

It was a trying summer for the Allis family. The weather was hot and dry, and Mr. Allis, unaccustomed to labour in the fields, often almost fainted in the sun. His work seemed to him to progress very slowly. He had no one to assist him in sowing and planting and gathering in his crops; for, in the first place, there were few people to be hired, and, more than that, he had no money to pay his workmen if he had been able to obtain them. Every morning he had to go more than a mile with his oxen for water, which he brought in a barrel for family use; and it was often nine o'clock before he got to his work in the fields.

At length November came and found his summer's work completed. He had no barn in which to store his grain, and could only secure it by "stacking" it until it could be threshed.

The potatoes, squashes, pumpkins, beets, turnips and other vegetables which the garden had produced for winter use were as securely housed as possible and protected from the frost; and Mr. Allis began to hope that now he might take that rest which he so much required.

For a number of weeks the children had been excited by wonderful lights in the sky, just above the horizon. Sometimes eight or ten of these could be seen in different directions at once, and occasionally some one of them would seem to shoot up suddenly, not unlike the flame of a distant volcano. To the eager inquiries of the little ones, they were answered that these singular lights were called prairie-fires.

"What is a prairie-fire, father?" asked both the children at once.

"It is the burning of the long coarse grass which covers the prairie in summer. This becomes very dry, and then, if a spark of fire chances to fall upon it, it is at once all in blaze."

"Does it make a very big fire, father?" asked Susie.

"That depends upon circumstances, my child. If the grass is very high and thick, as it sometimes is in the sloughs and moist places, it makes a big fire, as you call it."

"Oh, how I wish I could see a prairie-fire close by us! Don't you, mother?"

"I cannot say that I do, my child; they are sometimes rather mischievous visitors, and I would much prefer that they should keep at a respectful distance."